


Ashes

by uglyinternet



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Murder House
Genre: Angst, Antichrist, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friends to Lovers, death and murder all the good stuff, satanic, set before apocalypse, shitty parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 10:55:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16448561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uglyinternet/pseuds/uglyinternet
Summary: She soon learns that true evil is tragically beautiful and sometimes you can't help but fall in love with it, even if that means losing yourself in the process. It makes her wonder how much love is really worth? Is it worth the bloodshed? the permanent mark of hatred and murder on your soul? Is all that worth giving your heart and soul to someone who could destroy it at any minute?





	1. The Past, Present, and Soon To Be

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally posted on my wattpad (lilgroot) but i’m bringing it over here! this story is gonna be filled with soft!young michael and then eventually evil!long haired michael and fluffy angst to die for!

Making a name for yourself in a place like Los Angeles was as hard as one would think. Countless people moving to the large city in hopes of making it big, becoming famous, etching their name in stone so everyone would remember and know who they were! 

But most failed. Making it big in Los Angeles seemed like a pit you had to dig yourself out of, leaving you bruised and bloody once, or if, you made it out. It was no shock to people when they heard of drug overdoses or killings because someone couldn’t make it in this town. It was tragic and hurt your heart to hear, but it wasn’t a surprise to anyone. 

If Hilana hadn’t grown up in the city maybe she would think of it other than hell. A place where people either come to succeed or fail. She didn’t see an in between. As heartless as that sounds. The girl seeing tragedy strike first hand and hopes and dreams demolish at the hands of the city, it was a thought that stopped hurting her heart to think after the tenth tragic story she heard. But the young girl still couldn’t help he feel a bit sorry for those people who’s dreams were swiped from underneath them. It was beautifully tragic to her. 

Her own mother being one of those tragedies. Coming to Los Angeles at the young age of eighteen, hoping and dreaming of starting an acting career. Only to end up sleeping with many producers, finding herself addicted to cocaine, and having an unplanned, and unwanted, baby within the span of two years. Her mother’s dreams and wants to succeed and make a name for herself getting the best of her. Ultimately ruining her. Though, her mother would always blame Hilana herself for the fall of her mother’s dream. A constant insult she would drunkly spit out at the girl whenever she felt the need to be extra cruel to her. An insult that stung Hilana’s heart, leaving a permanent cut within her soul. An insult she would always replay in her head whenever she made even the simplest mistake, or whenever she lay in bed wondering why her mother wasn’t really a mother at all. 

But Hilana Gilda refused to let this town and the reputation of her mother stop her from making a name for herself. It wasn’t a big name, not even a famous one. She wasn’t looking to be the next big star of Hollywood, or to be anything other than herself. She didn’t want fame or fortune or free stuff. She just wanted people to look at her without sympathy in their eyes, without hate, or disgust for knowing her upbringing, for knowing her drunk of a mother. 

She wanted more for herself than that. The story her mother had branded on her. That wasn’t her story and she refused to let it be told as such. 

So when middle school had hit Hilana involved herself within every school activity and sport, taking it upon herself to do things for the community and soon she earned her spot in people’s hearts of the sweetheart of town, rather than the girl with the shitty mother. The reputation following her through high school and on to college. 

Even though she still got glances of sympathy from others, hearing whispers when she walked by; 

“Poor thing, have you heard about her mother?” 

“How can such a sweet girl come from such a cruel woman?” 

“Bless her soul. Hopefully she doesn’t turn out like her mother.” 

The plague that is her mother was something Hilana knew would always follow her. But, at least people knew her for her now and not just her mother and that alone made the girl feel as if she made it in this town. 

Even though part of her felt bad for wanting to shun her mother from her life, pretend like she did not exist. Like her mother and her tragic life was a myth that people spread around because they had nothing better to do. She wished it was like that. None of the stories being true. Wishing her life was a complete made up story and that it was actually the perfect one she portrayed it to be. But it wasn’t and she knew it never would be. 

She knew not even the most fool proof life could sugar coat what her life was truly like behind closed doors. She knew it with every smile, every fib, fable, and lie she told to strangers that it would never be more than just a fantasy world. 

There was once a time, when Hilana was ten years old that she thought her mother had changed her ways. That maybe her life could be something other than her mother getting drunk and screaming at her, or watching her mother pass out from drug use right in front of her. She had been taken away several times by child protective services. They had placed her in the care of her grandmother who lived in the state over. Her grandmother wasn’t the nicest woman, but she was nicer than her mom. Always making sure the little girl had food to eat, took a bath every other night, let her run wild with the kids next door, and making sure she had nice clothes to wear to school. Things her mother seemed to care if she had or not. 

Her grandmother had been strict with her, but Hilana liked that. The only thing her mother had been strict about was not bothering her while she drank or shot something into her veins. She would refuse to let the girl go play outside, not wanting to be bothered with having to watch her child to make sure she wasn’t stolen away; but Hilana felt even if she were to be stolen that her mother would not care much. Sometimes the girl even wished to be stolen. And when her mother would either drink herself into a comatose state or sleep from whatever drunk induced stooper she was in, she would sneak out of the house and over to the neighbors yard next door to play with the other kids. A skill she perfected the older she got. Her mother only catching her once and not holding back as she pulled the young girl by the hair dragging her back to the house as she screamed every profanity in the book at her. A scene that all the neighbor kids had watched and reported to their parents and was the reason why the young girl was taken from her mother and made to live with her grandma. That was the first time she was taken, and each time she hoped her mom would change, realize what she was doing to herself and her child was wrong. 

And the last time she was taken from her mother, when she was ten, her mother had come back sober and looking herself again. Looking as if she was twenty years younger. Hilana remembers seeing photos of her mother when she was a young girl, how beautiful she was, how everyone thought she looked like the next Marylyn Monroe. And it was the first time that Hilana actually saw it. Not in pictures but in person. Her mother looked beautiful again. Her eyes were not bloodshot, no black circles around her eyes, or sores on her face. She had healed from the inside out and it gave the young girl hope. Hope from a new life, a better one. That maybe her mom meant it when she said she was going to stay clean this time. 

It lasted a whole month before Hilana realized that people like her mother do not change. That she didn’t even know if she believed people themselves were capable of changing. But she hoped. She still held on that people could be good. That maybe they couldn’t change forever but they could still be good. 

Maybe it was pathetic. Maybe, realistically, her heart should be cold towards her mother. Towards a lot of people for everything she’s been put through. But her heart still beats. Still tries to find the good. And maybe that’s the real tragedy here. 

But she never brings the tragedy that is her life outside of her home. Once she steps out of that door she’s a whole other person. A better person. A person with a perfect life, someone who looks as if they have it all together and is not falling apart inside. Someone with good grades and a bright future ahead, and great friends. 

Well, sort of great friends. 

Hilana didn’t think the people she called her friends were bad, but she wasn’t too sure if she actually liked them as friends or as people to help make her ‘perfect life’ lie more believable. Or to make herself feel better, for having people like them as friends. Most people would consider themselves lucky to be friends with the people she was friends. They were some god like people, but their families were well known in the community. Favored by the community. Hilana didn’t view any person less or more than herself, she thought the idea of thinking someone was better because they had this or less because they didn’t have that, was a nasty habit the human race had become accustomed to. 

But did she use the fact that people saw her three friends as better people to her advantage? Yes. It was selfish and it made her stomach cramp up by how hypocritical she was being and it just made her think of all the times her mother had told her she was a bad person, and how now they were true. Maybe they had always been true. Maybe she was a bad person. One who lies to seem normal. One who is ashamed to have her mother as a mother, but still can’t help but love the horrible woman. Maybe all of these things categorized her as a bad person. And it would just be another notch on her hatred belt towards herself. A belt that seemed to have more notches than one should have. 

And to her friends she was just like them. Maybe a little lower on the class meter seeing as how she didn’t have the name brand clothes, or because of where she lived, and of course who her mother was. But they didn’t view her any less than themselves. At least not to her face. 

Hilana had heard them, Ashley mostly, saying some things behind her back and she hated to admit that it made her cry. To have the perfect rich blonde Ashley saying horrendous things behind her back, then being nice to her to her face actually hurt. She shouldn’t of been surprised by it, but it didn’t make the blow any less painful. 

But her name was soon wiped clean of the nasty things Ashley had said, by their mutual friend Oliver Finch. He had made a show of yelling at Ashley in front of everyone in the college square and even if the blonde only rolled her eyes and gave Hilana a piss poor apology, it still made her smile. Made her feel a little better. But when everyone started to assume that her and Oliver were an item, the reason why he stood up for her, she wished he didn’t say anything at all. 

Oliver was a nice boy, great even. And he wasn’t ugly by any means. He was smart, had a great reputation, and he was psychically attractive but that’s as far as it went. She hadn’t felt any sort of spark between the two and anytime he would reach to hold her hand her stomach would twist and she would be too shy to tell him to let go. 

Hilana never really knew how to act around boys. And the behavior and track record of her mother did not help. The only positive relationships she ever saw were on tv and even they weren’t that believable. And when he mother would leave her with strange men to go buy whatever drugs she needed, the look they gave the little girl even at the age of four made her sick. Even that young she knew that men like that were sick in the head and had no business being around her. None had ever touched her. Not inappropriately. She would always hide herself away in her room or the bathroom until her mother came back, or push her dresser against her door when her mother would pass out and they came knocking at her door. 

Hilana refused to let any man or boy touch her. Even when she started going to school and all the other little girls were holding boys’ hands on the playground, she would pull away or go sit by herself. Not wanting any part of it. The feeling to gave her made her uncomfortable. And as she got older it only got worse. Her mother even trying to sell her daughters body to a dealer to get a hit of something. The young girl running out of her house and not coming back for three days. She had ran all the way to her case workers house, a town over. Just to get away from her mother and her sick mind. And she begged Clem to let her stay. That she would do anything, work herself to the bone to help her pay rent. But the woman could not let her. It would not be legal and if they brought it to someone higher up her mother would win and Clem would lose her job for making things too personal with a client. 

And the girl cried all the way home. Her mother had beat her a good one that night. Giving her a black eye and sore ribs. And she learned the lesson to not run from her mother anymore because the pain of being beat hurt more than what her mother expected of her. So instead she locked herself in her room, piling whatever she could next to the door so no one could come in. 

Hilana knew Oliver was not like any of those men who her mother had brought over. He would never force her into doing something, and she’s sure if she told him she didn’t want to hold his hand he wouldn’t take it as too much of a blow. But yet, she still didn’t tell him. She still held onto his hand and smiled as if she liked it. She would let him kiss her. An act that made her hands shake from how much she didn’t like it. How much she wished she could speak up. It never got any farther than that. Hand holding, hugging, and quick pecks were all they did. Hilana could see that sometimes Oliver wanted more, but he never pushed. Never asked. And she thanked him for that. Not every guy, especially when most college boys are only trying to get into your pants, would be okay with that. 

And deep down she knew the reason she continued with the facade of being his girlfriend was that being with him was a straight shot. A straight shot to being normal. Having a perfect life. She could see her life with him being better than where it was now. Bearable. Would she be happy? She doesn’t know. She likes to believe she could grow to be happy. Grow to love him. Grow to like his touches and let him see her that way. 

She thinks she could. After all she had pretended this far in her life. Lied to herself and everyone else this far. What was the rest of her life? It would be better than what her life currently was. 

 

Like now, Oliver had hold of her hand as he walked her home, an offer that any other girl would find sweet and heartwarming, but only made her anxious. But it wasn’t that bad. It was better than walking home alone she supposes. Even if it was what she was used to and didn’t mind it any other time. She hated when someone would walk with her for the simple fact that she didn’t want anyone to see her house. It wasn’t the most beautiful on the street. The yard was over grown and the porch was breaking and looked like tornado had been through it. The yellow paint had started to peel a long time ago and the windows were so dusty you couldn’t see inside them even if you tried to wipe it away. She ashamed of her house, so much so she even tried to fix it up herself but it ended with her mother snatching her hair and screaming at her for being ashamed of the roof her mother made she was over her head. When in reality her grandmother had paid for the house, all of the utilities and her mother did nothing.

Oliver, and everyone else besides Ashley of course, never said anything bad to her about the house. She figured they didn’t dare or were pitied her. But she was thankful either way. 

“You really didn’t have to walk with me,” Hilana smiled politely. “I’m used to walking alone, ya know.” 

Oliver grins looking up from his feet and over to her. “I know. But, I love walking you home. Gives me more time to spend with you.” He presses a quick kiss to her cheek and she does her best to look okay with it, shying away and looking down at the sidewalk as they continue to walk down the street. 

“I do wish you’d let me drive you though.” He admits. “I mean, I drive you to school, why can’t I drive you home? That’s what my car is for!” 

“Your car isn’t just to drive me around.” She deadpans. “I only let you drive me to school in the morning because it’s cold.” She teases and he smiles. “Plus, I like walking home on nice days. When you’re cooped up all of the time it’s nice to have the sun shine on you and hear the birds chirp. It’s peaceful.” 

He doesn’t respond just smiles and nods because he knows this is an argument he is not going to win. They had talked about it before and he had always found the idea of her walking alone to be ridiculous since he had a car and why would someone willingly walk that far? 

But he eventually let it be, knowing she was never going to change her mind. So he settled on driving her on the mornings she had class and sometimes walking home with her from school.

“Hold on.” The brunette boy sighed as he let go of her hand to bend down to tie his shoe. 

Hilana frowned at the sweat that had been left on her hand from the boys. Wiping it on her jeans in disgust. She bit the inside of her cheek, a habit she did when she was uncomfortable or anxious. It leaving permanent scaring on the inside of her mouth from biting it too hard. She didn’t know if she felt weird from the bleak hand holding she was doing, or because she felt as if someone was watching her. A feeling she got a lot. Especially from older women around town. She had grown accustomed to having judging eyes on her at all times. 

But this felt different. It gave her an eerie feeling and when she looked around she understood why. They were stood in front of the infamous Murder House. A house that gave Hilana the creeps. She would walk by it on the days she had class, always making sure to fast walk and keep her head down but she always felt weary and unease each time she did. 

If you were from Los Angeles, or this planet, you had heard about the horrific things that had taken part at the infamous house. 

Hilana remembers hearing the stories when she was just a little girl. She remembers how it would scare her and how her mother would laugh at her for it. How her mother would pick and tease and say she was going to drop her off there, leave her to fend off the evil there because she didn’t want her. And maybe someone there would. It had frightened the girl so much she would cry herself to sleep under her blankets. 

And if the house wasn’t labeled as being the devils playground, she could see the curb appeal of it. It was a beautiful Victorian house. Even with the yard a mess and vines and tree limbs hanging all around it from not being kept up. It was still beautiful.

Her eyes gazed upon the vicarious house. Admiring the beautifully tragic look of it. She didn’t know if she believed the horrible stories about the house. They could of been made up, urban legends. She could understand why people would assume it were haunted or evil, especially since it looked run down from not being taken care of. 

Her eyes trailed the brick patterns of the Victorian house, her heart sinking when her eyes meet someone else’s. A boy. He’s standing in front of one of the windows on the second floor of the house. His eyes are glued to hers and it makes everything around seem to come to a stop. She doesn’t hear neighbor kids playing in their backyards anymore, she doesn’t hear cars passing by, or birds chirping. She doesn’t hear anything but her own heart beating in her ears and everything else is silent and still. The boy doesn’t blink, doesn’t move, doesn’t turn to look away. She would almost believe it is a statue within the window if she couldn’t visibly see his chest rising and falling. 

“Oliver?” Her voice comes out shaky. “Does anyone live here?” 

“Live where?” He asks as he stands up from tying his shoe. Unaware of where they are stood and what is going on. 

“Here.” Her eyes are still on the boys. His never leaving hers. He’s dressed in a white shirt and blue jeans. She’s pretty sure she can make out his blonde curly hair through the dust of the window. She thinks she’s seen him before. Maybe around the neighborhood. She’s not sure. But there’s a familiarity and gut feeling within her that’s drawing her in. She almost wants to wave at him, or go knock on the door. The thought alone sending chills down her spine. 

“Here?” Oliver scoffs as he realizes where they are. “No one lives here Hil.” 

She turns her head to give him a disgusted look at the nickname. She hated when he called her that and he knew it. 

“Hilana.” He corrects and looks back to the house. “No one has lived here in years, at least I don’t think. I’m sure if someone did it would get the town talking.” He shrugs. “Don’t know why they don’t tear it down. No one wants to live in that hell hole. Literally.” 

“But,” Hilana looks back to the window and the boys gone. “I saw someone, in there. Just now.” 

“Well, maybe they are doing work on it or something. Trying to make it look less trashy.” He scrunches his nose at the house. 

Hilana sighs in frustration. “No. I saw a boy. He was–he was young. Like you and I.”

Oliver shrugs. “Maybe you’re seeing things.” 

“I didn’t imagine it.” She stresses. “Did you not feel it?” 

His brows pull together giving her a confusing look. “Feel what?” 

“I don’t know, it felt...weird. The atmosphere changed.” She can tell by the look on his face he’s trying not to laugh at her like she’s some lunatic, and she knows she probably does sound like one. 

“Maybe you’ve gotten too much sun.” He laughs softly and grabs her hand and her impulse is to snatch it back but she stops herself. “We should get you home Nancy Drew.” 

“That reference doesn’t even make sense.” She scowls at him and looks back at the house on last time before she’s being pulled away. The boy is still no where to be seen, but she can still feel his gaze on her as she continues her descend down the street.


	2. Cruel Jokes and Bad Ideas

Before Hilana had met Oliver and the rest of his band of friends she had never thought of herself as an extroverted kind of person. Seeing as how she was kept in the house for most of her childhood it would make sense that when she was finally able to go out that she would either go crazy and love it or turn away and go back into the house. But she was the ladder. She loved going out, it meant she got to be away from her mom and whatever man she had over. But she also loved staying in when her mother would go on benders and be gone away for weeks on end and she could finally get some peace to herself within the confines of her home. 

And when she got older and started making friends she liked going out and over to their houses. She never allowed them to come over to hers, too embarrassed by her mother and how grungy her house looked on the inside. But, thankfully it was a silent agreement everyone knew and they never asked to go to the girls house. She assumed it was because they knew she would disagree, but maybe they also knew themselves that her house could not compare to theirs and they were disgusted by that. Either way, she was happy to escape her house. 

So when all of them would gather at Oliver’s house while his parents went away for the weekend, she saw it as a relaxation. Even if she didn’t enjoy the company of some of the other people who gathered with them. 

Trey Pond was Oliver’s best friend. They had known each other practically since they were in diapers. Their families being very close since their fathers did business together. Him and Hilana got along well. Better than she did with his girlfriend Ashley. Someone who Hilana considered more of a frenemy than an actual friend, and she was sure the other felt the same way, if not hating her completely. 

The two girls played civil, Ashley not being able to hold the look of distaste and interest in the girl for too long, whenever they would all hangout. Hilana did it out of respect for Oliver’s house, and she’s sure Ashley only did it so she wouldn’t get reprimanded by Oliver, something she would choose to ignore anyway, or an annoyed eye roll from her boyfriend. 

But when the four of them would hangout, especially at Oliver’s where his refrigerator was always stacked with snack foods and where he always raided his parents’ liquor cabinet, they always had a good time. Or as much of a good time as Hilana could have. 

“You’re really not going to drink with us?” Trey asked as he poured himself a third glass of whatever slush concoction Ashley had whipped together in the blender. 

“You ask me every time and it’s always a no.” Hilana laughed softly. “You’d think you would get the hint by now.” 

“Yeah,” Ashley agrees. “Especially since you know her mother is a drunk.” She flashes a smirk as she flops down on the leather couch, cup in hand and drinking slowly from the bendy straw hanging from it. “Lord knows she doesn’t wanna turn out like her.” 

Hilana presses her lips together in a tight smile. Not trying to give the blonde the satisfaction of how the mention of her mother makes her stomach sick and a nerve struck the wrong way. 

“You’re such a bitch.” Trey bursts out laughing as he joins her on the couch, already tipping back the contents within his cup. 

“Alright, that’s enough.” Oliver buts in as he gives Hilana a sympathetic smile. “I think not choosing to drink, not only because of your mother,” he speaks gently. “But because of your own morals is very brave, and honorable.” Hilana gives him a soft look and grabs his hand and squeezes it in a silent thank you. 

Not only was he correct about her not wanting to drink because of her mother, the fear of turning into a horrid human being who only knows the taste of liquor and nothing else, was enough to keep her away from the poison indefinitely. But, she never had the desire to drink. Not like most young adults her age. Not even in high school when it seemed all of the kids were drinking because it was cool, she found it ignorant and disgusting. She had made a silent promise and agreement with herself that she would never let a drop of it hit her lips for as long as she lived, and she wasn’t about to turn on that promise just to appease the bitching of Ashley, or the judgmental looks and snide comments. She’s dealt with worse for less. 

“Why don’t you just fuck already.” Ashley spits back, her tone mocking and filled with needles. It makes Trey snort out a laugh, and Hilana pull back her hand from Oliver’s and look away with a slight blush to her cheeks. 

“We will fuck the moment you stop being a bitch.” Oliver shoots back. 

“Looks like that ain’t ever going to happen.” Trey laughs harder as his girlfriend scowls at him, the back of her hand making contact with his chest in a hard slap. “What?” He asks innocently. “It’s true. You’ll never stop being a bitch. Everyone knows it.” He shrugs off the daggers she’s shooting to him and sips his drink. 

Hilana can’t help the small laughter that slips from her, her and Oliver sharing a look of amusement. 

Girls like Ashley, the kind that are so insecure about themselves even though they have everything, money, a perfect body, amazing hair, always feel the need to put everyone else down because no matter how much of those things that they do have, they always feel as if they are missing something, or could have more, want more. In their own eyes they aren’t perfect and putting everyone else down, being a stone cold bitch fills the void of despair they can never shake. 

Hilana almost pitied her. And if it wasn’t for her being the vengeful, always out for blood person she was, Hilana might even feel sorry for her. But those feelings quickly disappear whenever she opens her mouth to speak. 

“Yeah, well, at least I‘m not creepy and make up stories about seeing dead people from that shitty abounded house down the block.” She spits. It’s suppose to be an insult but the only thing it does is shock Hilana. 

“You told her?” She looks at Oliver wide eyed. 

“I-“ he stutters, his expression looking like a deer caught in headlights. “I didn’t tell her.” He shoots Ashley a scowl who has a satisfied smirk on her face. “I asked Trey if he knew if anyone lived there, ya know, since you said you saw someone.” 

Hilana sighs. She knew that Oliver was only trying to be helpful. He wouldn’t of said anything if she asked him not to, which she did not. So she can’t be completely upset with him for asking Trey, or for not thinking that he would tell Ashley and she would not hesitate to give her backlash for it. He was just trying to be nice, helpful. But she couldn’t help but feel annoyance bubble up inside of her. Annoyance at him for opening his mouth and annoyance at herself for even saying anything to him. 

“That is hella creepy though.” Trey decides to add his two sense in. “No one has lived there in a while, years maybe.” He thinks about it. “The last people to live there was that lesbian couple, remember?” 

“Oh yeah, the ones who just disappeared? No body, no trace of them anywhere.” Oliver recalls. 

Hilana remembers hearing about that. It wasn’t on the news, nor did it make it to be that big. She assumed that the town didn’t want another murder mystery on their hands like the many others than came from the reputation of the house. It was gossiped and talked about around town though. She never knew which story had been the truth, having heard so many different versions of it; 

‘The wife wanted a divorce is the other killed her and then herself, she must of done it out in the woods somewhere that’s why there was no bodies.’ 

‘It was a jealous ex, it’s always the jealous ex.’ 

‘It’s that house, it’s cursed. People walk in there to die and that’s it.’ 

No matter which story was true or false, she knew that whatever happened was not good, nor did she think anything that ever happened within that house was. 

“And your creepy girlfriend, just claims she saw someone there. Maybe she’s the killer.” Ashley continues her mocking. 

“Shut. Up. Ashley!” Hilana shouts. “Don’t you think if I was a killer you might want to be nice to me. Who knows maybe you’ll be next, just another missing body that the house swallowed up.“ 

The three share a look of bewilderment. Hilana had stood up for herself before when it came to Ashley. She knew how to stand up for herself, but confrontation was not her strong suit. And being cruel to someone, even if they had been cruel to her had always left her feeling sickly inside, filled with regret. The girl had a heart too full of understanding and forgiveness to be cruel. She wanted to see the good in all things, even if life dealt her the cruelest hand. Her whole life being surrounded by cruelty and mistreatment. She didn’t want the cycle to continue. 

But when it came to Ashley it was hard for her to care. The girl somewhat reminded her of her mother and how it didn’t bother her to send cruel comments her way. And Hilana could never stand up to her mother, a gene she just did not get. But, when it came to putting Ashley in her place it was as if she was making up for all those times she wanted to scream at her mother. 

Soon enough Trey and Oliver broke the silence as they both burst into laughter. A sly smirk etching onto Hilana’s face in satisfaction. For once Ashley was silent and used her scowl to speak for her. 

“I think that was the best thing I’ve ever seen.” Oliver laughed. 

“You just got out bitched.” Trey elbowed his girlfriend in the side teasingly. “I didn’t think it was possible.” 

“Shut up. Both of you.” Ashley warns with a glare. 

But it only makes the two laugh more and soon Hilana finds herself joining in. 

“You can dish it out, but you can’t take it back.” Oliver shakes his head, “classic narcissist.” 

“Whatever.” The blonde crosses her arms across her chest, much like an angry child would do. “I’m still not as creepy as her. Seeing shit in that killer house. That’s messed up, you have to admit.” 

“It is.” Trey agrees. “Especially when no one lives there now, and no one even dares go in there. Not even to step into the yard. Thanks to all the boogeyman stories.” 

“How many people have died there anyway?” Hilana asks. Curious. There had been so many stories and urban legends that it was hard to tell which were true and which were just that; urban legends. And if she went by every spooky story she had heard then the body count would be endless. The thought gave her the chills. 

“I don’t know.” Oliver shrugs. “My parents say they knew the one couple who lived there, Chad and Patrick.” 

“Oh right, the gays.” 

Oliver’s face scrunches in annoyance. “Why do you have to say it like that?” 

“What?” Trey shrugs as if what he said wasn’t offensive. 

“The gays.” Oliver mocks. “Just say, the gay couple. Sounds less offensive.” 

Trey puts his hands up in defense. “Sorry, didn’t mean to make your liberal ass all offensive.” 

Oliver rolls his eyes. “Anyway.” He continues, “my parents knew them, even went and had dinner over there. My mom said she felt as if someone was watching her the entire time. Like, there was someone else there besides them. She could feel them. Said it felt hard to breathe. Like she was in a room full of people, but it was only them.” 

“Fuck man. Now that’s creepy.” 

“Maybe your moms like clairvoyant or something and can sense spirits.” 

“That’s not what clairvoyant means.” Hilana corrects. 

“Whatever, bitch.” Ashley retorts. 

“Either way, she refused to go back. Even drive past the house. And when they found their bodies, it being ruled as a murder suicide, my mother said she wasn’t surprised. Like, she could sense that however it was supposed to end, their lives or their time at the house, that she knew it wasn’t going to be good. Not with that house.” 

Hilana can feel the goosebumps running up her back as she listens to the story. As she takes everything in. She had always felt like eyes were on her each time she walked past the old house. Just like Oliver’s mom had described. But this time, she actually saw eyes. Saw a person. Saw him. And everything stopped. It had felt surreal and as if she could not breathe. She didn’t imagine it. She was not seeing things. She saw him. His breathing. His flesh. The light tint of pink in his cheeks. He was real. 

But the house was empty. So how could he have been? 

The thoughts put her on edge. She chews the skin on her bottom lip until she can feel the copper taste of blood hit her tongue. 

Trey chugs what is left within his cup, slams it on the glass coffee table and stands up. “I think there is only one way to find out the truth.” 

“The truth about what?”

“If someone really lives there. If this house is as haunted and creepy as everyone says.” 

Oliver gives him a weary look. “I think I know where this is going..” 

Trey smirks. “Oh, yes you do my friend.” He laughs, “we’re going to the murder house!” 

Hilana’s heart stops and she’s looking at all of them to see if this is a joke. If they’re laughing and shaking their heads, just picking fun. But they’re not. 

Ashley bounces up with excitement. “I’m down!” 

Oliver thinks about it for a second, looks to Hilana and shrugs. “I mean, aren’t you curious? Don’t you want to find out if the legends are true, or if you really saw someone?” 

“No.” Hilana doesn’t hesitate to answer. Maybe she was a little curious, she couldn’t deny that. But, she knew that you shouldn’t mess with evil. Fake or not. True or not. That house had been labeled as evil and there had to be a reason. A couple deaths did not just label it as that. Multiple deaths, disappearances and murder did. 

It was human nature to wonder if urban legends were real. To have part of you want to go see for yourself if they were. To prove people wrong, or to prove people right. 

But the sickly feel of unease was stopping her from feeling anything else other than fear. 

“Oh, come on.” Trey frowns. “Don’t be such a baby!” 

“Yeah. Don’t you want to see if your creepy vision was real?” Ashley smirks. 

Oliver turns to Hilana, grabbing her shaking hands. “It’ll be fine. Trust me. I’ll bring my dads pepper spray and you know I always carry a pocket knife on me.” He smiles reassuringly. “We will be fine. And I know you want to find out who that was you saw. I can tell.” 

“But,” Hilana swallows, her voice shaky. “What if-“

“What if nothing!” Ashley groans. “Come on! Live a little. You’ve never done anything exciting your whole pathetic life, do something for once!” 

Hilana glares at her. Every fiber in her body was telling her that this was a bad idea. She knew it was. There was no denying that. There was no clouding her judgment. But, she also did not want to give Ashley the satisfaction of reprimanding her for not going later. She knew she would not let it go. She would spit out jokes and mocks until the end of time about how much of a scardy cat she was. 

And bad idea or not, every part of her shaking in fear, she just wanted Ashley to shut her mouth for once and not give her the ability to mock her even more. 

“Fine.” Hilana stands, trying her best to act as confident as she can. Convincing herself that everything will be fine. That she doesn’t have to go in the house, she can stand on the porch. And that’s exactly what she will do. 

There was no way they were going to get her to go into that house. It was a house people went into to die. Evil lived there and she wasn’t about to go inside and make friends with it.

**Author's Note:**

> feedback is always welcome!


End file.
